


She Who Comes in Second

by steadydescentintomadness



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23756416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steadydescentintomadness/pseuds/steadydescentintomadness
Summary: Harry has gathered the greatest Operators, both attack and defence, to compete for the title of Champions. One chance for victory. One chance for glory. Caveira had worked too hard to get herself where she was. Too hard to have that questioned by anyone—even him, even in passing.Glimpses of the Tournament of Champions and its aftermath.
Relationships: Gustave "Doc" Kateb/Taina "Caveira" Pereira
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	She Who Comes in Second

**Author's Note:**

> The SI 2020 trailers left so many questions and blanks that I wanted play with. Special shout out/ credit to AISOFK on Twitter who, alongside the cinematic trailer, is the the reason I hopped on this ship sailing over all seven seas at top speed. Their Cav/Doc fan art is amazing. So much so that I had to incorporate one of their pieces and its dialogue in this.

The crowd’s roaring cheers bellowed through the stadium. Smoke still hung thick in the air from exhausted fireworks during the opening ceremonies. Taina Pereira followed behind Elena Alvarez, who led the defenders out onto the field. The wind breezing past Taina’s face chilled her skin, wet face paint that hadn’t dried yet—the black under her right eye and the white coating the bridge of her nose. The stadium’s countless LED lights beamed down on her. She couldn’t help but let loose the tiniest of smiles.

Elena lessened her pace, slowing to a walk. Flags from every country lined the the concrete dividing the second tier of seating from the first. Even more flags, ranging from small handheld flags to large ones protruding feet into the air, littered the crowd. Taina stopped and beheld the sight. Her eyes couldn’t help but gravitate towards the brilliant Brazilian greens fluttering through the wind. Doc stood nearby, off to her right, smiling at the sight of the audience as well. Behind her, even without his radio mic live yet, she could hear Mozzie yelling back at the crowd. Max Goose had become their team’s hype-man. ‘Finally,’ Taina remarked to herself in jest, ‘his inability to shut up serves a purpose.’ He raised his arms at the spectators, and their voices surged with him.

As introductions rang over the public announcement system, Taina felt the weight of the moment settle into her mind. Elena gave her a nod as she circled back around to view the defender’s seating area lined with chairs and monitors. Taina paid no attention to it; she didn’t plan on spending any time there.

Gustave Kateb glanced at the woman beside him. He watched Caveira take in a subtle but powerful breath. Her gaze deviated from the crowd and settled onto him. “Ready?” he asked. Taina nodded, and he nodded back at her. “Try not to go so far from site this time?” he pleaded.

Taina’s eyebrows knotted into a glare, adding a whole other look of lethality to her face paint. Gustave stifled his groan, grip tightening on his helmet; he could hear his own unintentional implication—like she needed him, like she was a child to be reprimanded. By the look on her face, he knew she heard it too. Gustave immediately regretted speaking.

“What?” Taina stalked over to Gustave until she was directly in front of him. With her back to most of the arena as well as the stadium kill house she was there to defend, the weight of the moment fell away as quickly as it had fallen upon her. Just her versus him. Something inside her snapped. “That’s my job! Are you suggesting I not do my job? Or saying that I’m incapable of that job?” Taina knew neither were true as well as she knew Gustave would never imply such things. But she had worked too hard to get herself where she was. Too hard to have that questioned by anyone—even him, even in passing.

Gustave could not dignify her questions with any verbal response.

Taina Pereira, he remembered learning so quick, possessed one of the most explosive personalities he’d ever witnessed, and she was also a wild card. Gustave figured he could study her his entire life and she would remain as unpredictable to him as the day he first met her. What others found objectionable, he learned to find somewhat endearing. Even this, her rage: just passion lost somewhere in translation. But the look in her eyes—he didn’t dare test that fire.

He shook his head, and he pivoted enough to step around her.

“Answer me!” Taina shoved at his shoulder. The force killed any of his movement forward and rattled the armour covering his torso. 

Gustave raised his hand in surrender and hoped to diffuse the situation without further resistance.

Taina did not care. “Which is it?” she shouted.

‘ _Bon sang,_ ’ he cursed to himself, exasperated. He wasn’t going to fight her. Still, her persistence pushed him closer to the edge, and Gustave’s frustration overruled his rational faculties. He hurled his helmet aside to the ground, turning away from her. It made no sound against the turf; a resurgence of cheering and yelling drowned it out. ‘Probably at us,’ he figured. Gustave noted in the back of his mind: she would never let that go.

“Well?” she asked. “What are you saying?”

Elena yelled something, and Jack Estrada ran in between them. “Break it up, you two!” He nudged Doc out of the way and pushed Caveira off to the side. Pulse had more to say to her.

Gustave retrieved his helmet and walked over to where Elena stood. Mozzie said to him as he walked by, “You two have got to stop.”

Elena shot Gustave a knowing look. He sighed. “I only said I can’t help her if she goes too far away.”

‘Well… that’s what I meant to say, at least,’ he thought. He had tried that during the semi-finals of the tournament. Caveira couldn’t get full coverage from one of Fuze’s cluster charges. He remembered fleeing the bomb site in an attempt to get to her in time. It ended up costing them both. The team had won the match for them, but Gustave did not want a repeat incident. On the other hand, Taina, he knew, did not want to be told what to do. She never did. Oh, she frustrated him. Over time, he got a sense she both knew and enjoyed that fact, if only because it never ended up mattering. He could never stay upset with her for long.

“She’s just anxious,” Elena said. “Or excited.”

They didn’t pretend they could decipher the difference.

“ _Operators prepare for the first match,_ ” blared over the intercom. “ _Defenders, to the map._ ”

The crowd cheered at the commencement of the finals. Elena led the way once more into the building. “Office and Target?” she asked aloud.

Taina heard Jack reply. It hardly mattered to her; she wouldn’t be there long.She peered over at Gustave to see him tug his helmet over his head. He stared back at her through his visor. Neither of them said a word—there was no need.

* * *

“Hey, Cav!” It was all Taina recalled of the moment. That and the dry taste of powder in her mouth. ‘Dokkaebi, of all people.’ Taina stomped out of the kill house, and she made her way over to the sitting area. She could feel blood oozing down her forehead and a tear—reflexive, not emotional—streaming down her left cheek. She could hardly see through the cloudy blur in her left eye. Granules from the simulated ammunition scraped under her eyelid with each and every blink. She almost had Mike Baker. She should have.

Mozzie shrugged at her as she approached. “Hey, we’ll get ‘em next time.”

Taina shoved past him and sat herself down next to Doc. She couldn’t help it. He said nothing to her though, and for that she was grateful. “There is no next time, _seu corno_ ,” she told Max. “There was now, and we fucked it up.” Speaking only worsened her headache. The blood in her veins seemed to stab at her temple with every beat of her heart.

Mozzie pointed an accusatory finger at her. “You need to relax,” he said before walking away.

The crowd had at last stopped cheering Dokkaebi’s name. Taina leaned over and shook her head. She hated not being good enough.

Gustave found a chance to look at Taina without a rivalling glance or her judgement. These were the kind of moments when he felt like he had an exclusive view into a foreign and lonesome world. These were the moments where his other Rainbow teammates would dismiss her behaviour as cold, rude, and blunt. Maybe, at one time, he would have too. All he saw now was genuine hurt. ‘You try too hard to fix everything.’ He had been told that more than once in his life and career. It was his virtue as much as his vice. Some things cannot be fixed; some things just had to be endured. Taina hadn’t moved from her hunched position. ‘Let her be, for now,’ he thought to himself. Gustave arose from his seat next to her, garnering no response. He joined Elena by the monitors to watch the rest of the match unfold.

Caveira refused. She just _couldn’t_. The crowd’s cheering seemed to shake the stadium as the announcer declared, “ _Attackers win_.” Taina let her eyes flutter shut until she felt a hand grip her shoulder. Taina glanced up. Elena stood over her and offered a sympathetic smile. Taina didn’t know when Elena had become the de facto leader of their team, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Taina noticed the white dust coating the lower part of Elena’s body. She didn’t remember hearing a detonation. She figured she had been focused on combatting with Mike. ‘Next time,’ she thought, half-smiling back at Elena, who patted her shoulder twice before returning to the turf to address the crowd. ‘Next time.’

* * *

Taina had told Harry the same thing during her post-tournament interview. They were some of the most honest responses she had ever given him. “Thank you, Taina,” Harry said, flipping through his notes. “Please send in Dr. Elena Alvarez next.”

Taina nodded. She unclipped the portable microphone from her uniform and set it down on the chair. Her fingers grazed the splatter of powder that had settled onto her chest after the initial shot. Next she removed the strap of her M12 from around her shoulder and hung the firearm up in her stall. She brushed the white off her uniform as much as she could on her way out of the prepping room. She strode into the defender’s sitting area. Gustave and Max sat at opposite ends of one of the couches. Across from them, Elena sat in an arm chair. They—or rather, mostly Mozzie—chatted about something until Taina approached. Natural light pooled into the room, a stark contrast to the artificial yellow-white lighting she had adjusted to during her interview.

Everyone looked up at her, but only Doc spoke. “Finished?” he asked.

Taina nodded and glanced at Elena. “You’re up.”

“ _Gracias,”_ Elena said. She heaved over in her chair to pick up the helmet resting on the floor between her feet. With a sigh, Elena pushed herself out of the mahogany leather chair. She smiled and made her way into the prepping room. Taina watched her leave with head held high. She carried herself in a way that Taina both admired and envied. When Taina turned back around, Gustave was standing in front of her, silent. He had shed all of his armour and equipment and traded those accessories in for his lab coat. He levelled Taina with a gaze she couldn’t make sense of. No words, just his stare falling upon her and his breath dancing against her face.

She blinked at him. “What!” Taina pursed her lips at her unintentional aggression.

Gustave pointed to his own forehead. Taina saw nothing marking his skin, and only as she frowned did it hit her. Faint stinging rippled from her impact wound. ‘When did he even have time to notice?’ she wondered. Foolish for anyone to think any kind of injury could sneak past the notice of Gustave Kateb.

Taina huffed and started the journey towards medical bay.

“Don’t kill each other,” Mozzie, who still bore his entire uniform except his helmet, muttered after them.

Taina guided herself to medical bay. She never liked going to medical. The rooms always either smelled too sterile or too odorous, like blood, and infection, and sickness combined. The only thing she disliked more was being taken care of. ‘With one exception, of course.’ That exception, she could hear behind her, kept pace with her brisk walk. The door of the medical bay approached, closed and bland. She reached out for the long door handle.

Gustave rushed past her and took hold of the door handle before she could. Taina frowned at him, perplexed by his behaviour. Gustave grinned back. He nudged the door open, flicked the light on, and gestured with his free hand for Taina to enter.

Taina rolled her eyes at him, ensuring he saw it and the smile tugging at her lips, before stepping inside. Though she hated every medical room, the bay at the stadium was a vast improvement over the medical bay back at Hereford. The beds were nicer—nicer looking, at least. She prided herself on never having to have tried one. Even the desk and silver stools around the border of the room, everything gleamed with pristine newness. She could picture Doc being shown his new office by Elena and Harry with a childlike glee. ‘How am I to do proper medical work without a proper medical station?’ he would always retort. Taina let her smile over the image linger for another moment—then she wiped it from her face and sat down in the “patient stool,” dubbed so only because its wheels squeaked the most.

Gustave went to the other side of the room and opened one of the cupboards. He found an eyewash bottle and set it onto the counter. Next, he tore off his white gloves and tossed them in the garbage before withdrawing a new pair. ‘For medical precautions,’ he reasoned. But he couldn’t ignore the additional perk of drawing out his moment alone with Taina. The day had been long and marred with both physical and emotional conflict culminating in what he was unafraid to admit was a rather disappointing defeat. But his and Taina’s tensions remained unaddressed—something he had grown very opposed to. Gustave lowered himself into the stool across from Taina. He extended the eye wash out to her.

Taina glared at the contraption, some kind of water-filled pump with a cup at the top. It looked like something that could rip one’s eyeball right out of the socket. ‘Huh,’ she thought, giving the visualization way too much time and space in her mind. Her line of sight flickered from the bottle to Doc. She shook her head.

Gustave released a slight huff. “The inflammation has swollen your eyelid, Taina. You need to get all the powder out before it causes any damage or infection.” Bright red occupied much of her left eye, particularly in the outer corners. None of it appeared to be the result of bleeding, but he knew there was no guarantee how long that would last.

“I’m not using that,” she said.

Gustave groaned again and got back out of the stool. Taina heard him rummaging around through one of the drawers. The ruckus drowned out the awful hiss of a dying lightbulb over her head. Gustave sat back down before her. This time he extended a small bottle of eye drops out to her. She plucked the bottle out of his hand and dropped it into one of her uniform pockets with a mischievous smile.

Gustave knew she wouldn’t end up using those either, but she accepted them at least. That alone made him smile back at her. Gustave reached up. With careful fingers, he adjusted Caveira’s beret, doing his best to avoid further agitating whatever wound lurked underneath. ‘Oh my,’ he thought to himself as he removed the beret spattered in white powder. The movement sent strands of Taina’s hair astray, clinging to the fabric. ’Dokkaebi got her good.’ Saying those words at loud would probably get him killed. Gustave studied the wound. Layers of epidermis had ruptured in a mostly round laceration. Sections had begun to scab over, but there was still fresh blood and plasma pooling in the torn skin. A trail of blood had dried down Caveira’s forehead and caked her left eyebrow. New, pure white gloves on, Gustave raised an antiseptic cotton swab to her forehead and got to work.

Taina could smell the alcohol from the swab—another thing she hated. The scent burned inside her nostrils. She despised nearly every aspect of being in the medical bay. Despite that, leaving no longer qualified as her favourite part. ‘It’s this,’ she thought to herself. Gustave narrowed his eyes at the injury on her head. He ‘hmm’ed to himself and raised his other gloved hand to examine it closer. His attention to detail, his focus—it allowed her to stare and admire uninterrupted: the perfectly straight bridge of his nose, his tender and stern eyes, the tufts of silver hair near his temples perfect for tucking behind his ears. Taina clenched her hands resting atop her knees. She noticed the disinfectant had evaporated, taking the sharp, foul scent with it. Instead, in the stillness she caught his scent. Cologne and sweat and smokeless powder with an odd but familiar undertone of his latex gloves. ‘This is the _only_ pro to ending up in medical bay.’

Taina felt her heart rate elevating before she even noticed the warmth spreading in her cheeks. Her gaze flickered over to the emergency equipment lining the wall next to one of the beds. She focused on the black spiral cords dangling towards the floor and stretched out her inhalation to slow her pulse. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

The buzzing of the light above her rang through the quiet in the absence of any further movement. Her calm breathing crumbled into nothing but a huff. “So, are you still mad?” she asked Gustave, completely changing gears.

“Me!” He flinched back in his seat, bewildered, but when he saw one of her eyebrows jolt up, he cleared his throat. “Of course I’m not.”

“Good,” Taina said. “Even when I’m angry at you, Doc, don’t you ever get mad at me!”

“I was never mad at you.”

“Like hell you weren’t! You threw your helmet in front of me!”

Gustave groaned to himself. ‘I knew she wouldn’t let that go.’ He struggled with his words in lack of a response until he uttered, “I was just putting it down. The helmet was too— heavy.” Taina’s deadpanned expression slipped into a frown. ‘Even for me, that’s a bad fib,’ he admitted to himself.

“You’re lying.”

“I'm not!”

He hadn’t been mad at her. Frustrated, absolutely. But for the most part, aside from Lion that is, he was able to come to an armistice with those whose opinions he opposed through mere diplomatic discourse; Taina was a woman of action, and navigating through his increasing interactions with her posed a fresh challenge for him. With her, words so often did more harm than good. He couldn’t imagine where they would be in the conversation if he had said what was on his mind at the moment instead.

Taina scrunched her face into an over-the-top aggressive glare.

“What are you doing?” Gustave asked. Then he noticed the freshly formed clot over her wound begin to rupture—all his work, undone. Scrambling, he gave her a gentle tap on the forehead, right between the eyebrows and far from the wound. “Stop it,” he mumbled, knowing she had calculated her move. Everything was on purpose with her.

Taina blinked twice at him. Surprise melted her glare into nothing but wide eyes, a slightly ajar mouth, and the tiniest of gasps.

Gustave pretended not to notice and assessed what minuscule damage she had done. “I just want you to be safe,” he admitted. “Is it forbidden to ask you to be safe as well?”

Taina smirked at him. “Don’t give me ideas.”

Gustave chuckled at her response, but he figured she was only half-kidding, so he said nothing else of the matter. He bandaged her up before she could do any further harm to herself. As he smoothed the bandage over her skin, he said, “You did excellent today.” They all had, on both teams. If his team had lost, he knew his opponents all had to have done well too.

Taina’s already piercing and broody eyes filled with a darkness once more, the same darkness he had seen consuming her on the field. Taina shook her head and stared at the floor. For not the first time that day, he regretted speaking. ‘Words,’ he thought. ‘Doing more harm than good.’

Gustave picked up her BOPE beret from the desk at his side. He placed it on top her head and adjusted it, ensuring the rim made no contact with her bandage. His fingers flicked aside her bangs which had fallen in front of her eye. “There,” he said with finality. He peeled the tainted gloves of his hands as he studied her forehead one last time. A small air bubble lingered under the bandage. He swept his thumb along the bandage to force the air out. Next his thumb skated down the length her face, past her cheek bone that had become almost completely devoid of face paint. Most of it had disappeared. Maybe it had been transferred onto clothing or items inside the kill house. It could be that Harry asked her to remove it for the interviews or maybe she had done it herself; Gustave didn’t know. Either way, he couldn’t help but run his thumb further down her cheek, brushing the outer corner of her lip, down to her chin. Only faint black lines remained there. When he raised his gaze to meet Taina’s, her eyes had softened. He smiled at her. “All better.”

As Gustave stood, he pressed a kiss to Taina’s forehead—far from her bandage, near where he had poked her. ‘All better.’

Taina twitched at the sensation of his warm lips against her suddenly cold skin. Her hand shot out, clutching his lab coat, and she forcefully hauled him back into his seat with a thud. Gustave gaped at her.

Taina's grip faltered, slipping down his coat until a button driving up under the nail of her thumb made her clench. She scowled. Concern flickered across Gustave’s face at the sight: lips pursed together, eyebrows furrowed. For a fraction of a moment, Gustave sought the words for an apology.

Taina yanked him forward and crashed her lips onto his. Gustave kissed her back with no hesitation. Taina felt his hands graze her hips. He yanked her stool towards him, the wheels screeching like mad. Her body lurched forward at the sudden movement. She yelped, and she gripped onto his lab coat even tighter to sturdy herself. Their noses were close enough to brush together. Gustave’s staggered breaths lapped against her face, egging her on, and so she pounced, capturing his lips in hers once more.

He circled his arms around her waist, and Taina swore she heard him chuckle. She refused to let him go, hands still gripping his coat, keeping him close—just in case he changed his mind. Her other arm slipped around his broad shoulder, hand braced against his back. She kissed him over and over again—each kiss growing deeper and deeper, overwhelmed by an unrelenting and feverish need of him she never noticed occupied her until now.

The realization of that fact forced her to break away from him. Air rushed into her lungs all at once.

Gustave’s eyelashes, enviously long, fluttered as he blinked—to adjust to the lights? Or worse? Taina never relied on foresight. Hell, she’d made a career out of never doing so. Even still, she quickly understood through trial and error that such a fact could and often would bite her in the ass. ‘Don’t let this be one of those times,’ she begged no one in particular.

Gustave gave her a peck, stealing one final and brief kiss. Taina hadn’t caught her breath, but neither had he. He hid such a fact by whispering against her lips, “ _Je t’aime_.” Taina grinned, genuine and lively, at him. ‘Finally,’ he thought, ‘his words could do some good.’ She pushed him away in order to escape his hold, similar to how she had on the field but with a fraction of the force and infinitely more playful. He watched her rise of out her seat with a smile on his lips.

Taina took a step towards the medical bay door.

“Good try,” Gustave told her.

Taina froze in place. Her mind flurried, trying to comprehend his words. An apprehensive beat, and then her entire body, tense, whirled back around. She peered down at him. He held out the bottle of eye drops that she had secretly removed from her pocket and left on his desk. He smirked and shook his head in amusement.

Taina growled at him, swiping the bottle out of his hand. ‘I’m having one hell of an off day,’ she thought. She stared down at the caring and beautiful man before her, and that fact no longer mattered to her at all. She leaned in, caressing the swell of his pectoral muscle. “ _Merci_ ,” she jibed back at him. The sound of his laugher as she walked out inflated something far too foreign deep within her. She didn’t dare name it, but she hoped it would stay with her for at least a while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> [This is the referenced artwork by AISOFK.](https://twitter.com/AISO_FK/status/1218551855560548353) I'd recommend checking out the rest of their stuff if you're into it! Thanks for reading!


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